


what is a legacy? it's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see

by asolitaryrose



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, Politics, Pregnancy, perfect combo imo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-06 14:30:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10336679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asolitaryrose/pseuds/asolitaryrose
Summary: As the world around Ferelden is descending into chaos, Anora must find a way to protect her country from the storm, and secure the future of her homeland. With or without the help of a certain Warden...





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Risuko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Risuko/gifts).



> You can't imagine my joy when I knew I would be writing Anora again when I saw your prompt, dear Wintersend pal. I hope I did her justice, and that I managed to portray her both as the queen and as the woman that she is, in all her complex and multi-faceted glory. 
> 
> This takes place roughly around 9:39 Dragon. If you've read The Masked Empire - which isn't necessary to understand this fic at all, mind you - Teagan has just returned from his embassy to Orlais. It picks up from there, and deals with the events unfolding all around Ferelden at the time.

Anora could feel the headache already brewing, the painful pounding resonating between her temples and rippling through her skull. This meeting was off to a bad start. Taking the glass of water placed for her convenience —there really was little Erlina ever left to chance— she gulped down the liquid and fruitlessly rubbed at her temple in an effort to ease the pain.

 “Bann Teagan, if I understood correctly… Are you telling me you barely avoided a declaration of war with Orlais during your diplomatic visit in Val Royeaux? And you were provoked by Gaspard des Châlons, no less?” Anora huffed a disbelieving sigh, “I had thought you a better politician, my lord. This is dreadful news.”

 Teagan bristled at her words. “Your Majesty, the challenge was clearly a set-up. Had it not been for Empress Celene, I admit I would have lost my temper and cost us all a great deal, but everything had been orchestrated so that I fell right into the trap. He showed me Moira’s sword and—”

 At this, all the nobles gathered around the table gasped, and the room burst out in mix of excited chatter and cries of outrage. So extraordinary was this revelation that Bann Teagan’s words were soon completely drowned out in the noise.

 “My lords and ladies, silence! Silence in the council chamber!” cried the chamberlain in an attempt to quiet the room. Anora’s voice rose above all others, asking for order. After a couple of agitated minutes, the nobles settled once more, and all eyes turned to the queen.

 “Are you saying you saw the sword of Moira the Rebel Queen, Teagan?”

 Anora could scarcely believe it. The sword had been lost for generations, since the day Moira had been betrayed and assassinated by Meghren and his soldiers. She had thought it lost forever, taken to Orlais by Ferelden’s conquerors and displayed among other spoils of war. To think it fell into the hands of the likes of Gaspard des Châlons...

 “I did better than just see it, my Queen. I brought it back to its homeland,” said Teagan, before calling forward a servant hanging in the back of the room.

 As the servant stopped next to his master, all eyes fell upon the burden he carried, concealed under a Fereldan standard, which Teagan promptly removed in a flourish that revealed not only the sword, but the intricate scabbard in which it was sheathed. The embroidered golden and crimson mabari rampant were exquisite, and a very clear mark of who the blade had once belonged to. The scabbard seemed to have suffered from time, but nevertheless the Fereldan workmanship was unmistakable.

 A collective hush fell upon the assembly, before chaos erupted once more. Anora couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sword, and reached for it. Teagan surrendered the weapon graciously, and Anora let one hand run along the scabbard, before drawing the sword for all to see. The blade was still sharp, and shone as it had been polished only yesterday - which she was reasonably certain Teagan had ordered his servants to.

 A shiver ran through the queen, and as she gave back the sword to its carrier, “Remind me, Bann Teagan, to send a letter of thanks to Empress Celene. It seems it is as much thanks to her as it is to you that I am now holding this sword without the threat of another war looming over us.”

 Gratified, Teagan bowed his head, ceding the floor by retreating to his seat. Anora rose and began pacing the floor of the council chamber, processing Teagan’s prior declaration.

 Gaspard’s challenge, unrest brewing in Orlais, the mage uprising, the Chantry’s internal division… Ferelden was in need of allies, especially if Orlais was intent on waging war to reconquer what many Orlesians still considered their lost province. It was more than time to announce her plans to the nobles assembled before her.

 Anora threw a look at the empty chair meant for the Arlessa of Amaranthine, feeling Elissa’s absence acutely. Expelling a breath, she steeled herself, and turned to face her subjects.

 “As pleased as I am to see such a relic returned to us, and to see you once more among us, Bann Teagan, the news you bring back from Orlais is troubling. It seems Empress Celene is our only reliable ally in these agitated times. The nobles of Orlais are hungry for blood, and —led by Gaspard— would find themselves on the path of war all too soon.”

 A collective murmur of “Hear, hear!” greeted her words, and Anora carried on.

 “We have to tread carefully, and find new friends willing to brave Orlais’ wrath were Ferelden ever in need of help. As such, we must strengthen our bonds with the kingdom of Nevarra. They are the greatest threat to Orlais’ power. I feel it is time, my lords and ladies, for a more... _permanent_ alliance.”

 She paused, casting a look around her. The nobles around the table were collectively holding their breath, waiting for their queen to continue. Most of them seemed to have no clue about what she was hinting at, while a couple of the more politically astute were already considering how to turn this new wind to their advantage. She met Fergus’ gaze, steady and warm. He nodded at her, silently encouraging her.

 “Ambassador Malvaceae has repeatedly approached me, assuring me of the good faith and friendship of the Nevarran people. He was, indeed, quite insistent in introducing me to a number of suitors that would be fit for the Queen of Ferelden —or so he assured me. As you well know, I have turned them all down. In light of recent events, however, I feel we have little choice but to revisit the matter.”

 A collective murmur of discontent rose from the assembly. A few Banns, most of them women, were shaking their head and whispering among themselves. Anora noticed the way Arl Guerrin’s eyes seemed to light up, yet he remained silent.

 It was Bann Alfstanna who spoke up before all others, her voice clear and sharp enough to cut through the sea of disquieted voices. “Your Majesty! You cannot think to marry a Nevarran prince! It would be the swiftest way for a foreign nation to take control of Ferelden!”

 Anora’s eyes flew to the noblewoman, before quickly scanning the reactions of the nobles filling the room. She was pleased to see quite a number of them scowling, as if the very idea of their queen with a husband was impossible for them to even fathom. She was reminded of the early years of her reign, where she could barely go a day without a marriage proposal or a concerned nobleman worrying about his queen’s loneliness.

 How she wished Elissa could see them all —she already knew the look she would give her.

 “Rest assured, Bann Alfstanna, after so many years, I have no wish to marry any man, be he Fereldan or Nevarran,” she joked, sitting herself back on her throne. From the corner of her eyes, she could see Fergus’ eyes crinkle, as well as Bann Franderel muffle a laugh.

 “I was not referring to myself, my lady,” she smiled, bowing her head at Alfstanna in a show of coyness. “Ferelden counts many fine men and women of noble birth that could satisfy Nevarra’s appetite. My duties lie elsewhere.”

 She looked at Fergus once more, and was rewarded by a chin raised in defiance as well as a wink. Hiding a smile —she was well used to Fergus’ theatrics by now to remain unfazed— she extended a hand to him as he rose and stood next to her.

 “However, there are others in this illustrious assembly who are prepared to do this particular duty more willingly than I am. My lord Teyrn, if you would do us the honor…”

 Fergus cleared his throat, and faced the crowd. This was what weeks of incessant negotiations and back and forth would all come to. This was the hour in which the future of Ferelden would be decided.   

 “My lords and ladies,” he began, voice carrying far into the room, “you all know how I came to be married once. My lord father chose an Antivan bride for me, and I was fortunate enough to have a union that was not only politically advantageous, but also full of love. It’s been many years since I last married, but my country requires me to do so now, and I am hopeful that this second union will be as fruitful as the last.”

 In his blue and white doublet in the colors of his House, Fergus was resplendent, exuding an air of quiet dignity and a charisma that left the room hanging at his lips. Anora had always felt there was something about the Couslands —a kind of regality that hung in the air they breathed, seeping through their voice. She had often seen it in Elissa; she could see it in Fergus now.

 And yet, despite this, quite a few members of the assembly were showing their displeasure. There were some who still thought the Cousland family was gaining too much influence and power, and overshadowing its peers. Fergus Cousland marrying into the Nevarran nobility at Ferelden's hour of need could easily be seen as a power-hungry move. And if one took the youngest Cousland into account…  

 Anora was wary of an alliance with Nevarra, but she was driven by necessity. Ferelden could not stand on its own - it hadn’t been so during the Blight, and it certainly could never be so if Orlais was intent on declaring war. She didn’t doubt Celene’s commitment to peace, not after so many years of carefully crafted political treaties and trade agreements between their two nations. But how long till the empress’ leash on her most revanchist and belligerent subjects slipped from her grasp? They needed new allies, and allies that would be bound to them in a way that was difficult to undo.

 An alliance between the Couslands and the Pentaghast clan seemed the perfect solution to a delicate situation. The King of Nevarra was a man of advanced age. His most immediate successor was his younger brother, and neither of them had any known offspring. The Pentaghasts, however, remained the most influential family in all of Nevarra— and would by all accounts perdure as such, despite the desire for change among some nobles. Anora could ensure that Ferelden gained a new ally in the Pentaghast clan while positioning itself far enough from the throne that the Nevarrans would not see the union as a threat.

 Fergus agreeing to the match made everything much, much easier. Now they had to convince the rest of them. And the Bannorn was nothing if not stubborn… and notoriously distrustful of anything non-Fereldan.

 She hid a wince, rubbing at her lower abdomen. _Maker_ , she had forgotten how long these meetings could run. She had not counted on her ability to sit through them being compromised. Fergus was still speaking, arguing passionately with Bann Ceorlic over the promises the match would bring to Ferelden.

 “What about Kirkwall, your Highness? Or any of the other city-states in the Free Marches?” Bann Reginalda intervened, interrupting her train of thoughts. “We need allies that would not be tempted to swallow us whole. I don’t trust Nevarra anymore than I trust Orlais,” she finished, scowling, a chorus of shouts of agreement joining her.

 Anora sighed. She had tentatively began to form an alliance with Viscount Dumar —a necessary development given how many Fereldans took refuge in the city-state during the Blight— but that had ended with the Qunari invasion of Kirkwall.

 “We cannot count on Kirkwall to come to our aid. Ever since the Arishok destroyed the city and killed its leader, the City-State has been in chaos. And with the destruction of the Chantry...“ Anora shook her head. Kirkwall was a dead end.

 “Starkhaven might be a more judicious ally, my queen,” Fergus chimed in. “But we would have to choose between supporting the claim of an exiled prince, or ally ourselves with the current reigning family. I do not need to remind you, my lords and ladies, how this particular family came to power.”

 Anora’s brows furrowed. Most of the members of the ruling family were murdered right when Ferelden had been freed from the threat of the Archdemon. She remembered getting the news in the middle of the meeting with Revered Mother Boann and the newly appointed Bann Shianni— an explosive meeting, to say the least— which had led her to convene an emergency council to decide the next course of action. In the end, there was little they could do. The Vaels still sat on the throne, but the reigning prince was controlled by a rival family, the Harimanns, who became the effective power behind the crown.

 “Where is this prince now, my lord?” Anora enquired, pondering Fergus’ suggestions.

 “I know not, my queen. Last I heard, he was seen in the company of the Champion of Kirkwall, but disappeared after the destruction of the Chantry. I had heard he was involved with the Champion, for a time.”

 “Pity. I would much prefer dealing with the Vael family rather than talking to the Harimann’s puppet. As for this matter with the Champion...” The woman was Fereldan, after all, but too much of a wild card to ever be used as a pawn in Anora’s plans.

 Anora looked across the room at Bann Reginalda, who was deep in conversation with a handful of other nobles she knew to be the most averse to a foreign alliance. She was hardly surprised the Bannorn wished for an alliance with the Free Marches —they were much less threatening than the great kingdom of Nevarra, eternal rival to Orlais’ ambitions.

 And truth be told, Anora could even understand their distrust. But the Free Marches had no central government, no king and no capital, making the whole region extremely difficult to protect and deal with. As each city was wary of intrusion by its neighbors, tensions rose and fortune fell as the nobles jockeyed and vied for power. Starkhaven was simply the latest casualty of this deadly game of thrones.

 She had to win them to the Nevarran alliance.

 Already, she could see those in favor of the match, as well as the fierce opposition she would have to face from those who decried it. The eternal hesitants, the sycophants rehearsing their flattery, the schemers weaving their webs of intrigues, all of them bare to her gaze.

 With a final rub to her belly, Anora rose from her throne and called for silence. A hush fell upon the assembly, conversations dying and heads turning as the nobles all grew quiet and turned their eyes to their queen, silhouetted in the late afternoon sun.

 Indeed, Anora had planned her attire and timing very carefully. The declining light caught the gold of her hair, giving her the impression of blazing with light. Combined with the golden tiara sitting upon her head, the queen looked the very picture of regality and power.

 She smiled, baring her teeth to the assembly before her, eyes glinting with purpose, “Now my lords and ladies, shall we put the proposition to a vote?”

 

* * *

 

“Well, that went better than I expected,” Anora sighed, stretching her legs on the stool Erlina placed in front of her. Bless the woman - her ankles were killing her. Attentive as ever, Erlina had guessed her desires, and acted before she even had to give voice to them. She gave her a grateful smile, and turned to her guest, “There is still much work to do to win the Bannorn over, but they weren’t quite as stubborn as I imagined they would be.”

 The afternoon had almost run its course, and after what felt like hours of negotiations and diplomatic talks, Anora found herself relishing a tea break in the privacy of her cabinet chamber in the company of Fergus Cousland.

 Said Cousland let out a chuckle, and ran a hand through in hair, eyes crinkling. “You know how these old beards are. More bark than bite, especially when it comes to the honeyed words of their mistress. I still don’t know how you make them do half of the things you convince them to do, ‘Nora.”

 Laughter filled the room as Anora gave way to her mirth. “Truly Fergus, you give me too much credit. Besides, honeyed words will only take me so far. You know as well as I do that gold is ever only the true master here.”

 Anora reached for the cup of tea Erlina had filled before leaving the room. Taking a sip, she let the spices rest on her tongue, drawing out the flavors as long as she could before the heat made her swallow. Sensing a shift in her mood, Fergus sat still beside her, studying her silently.

 Finally, Anora confessed, “I couldn’t have done this without you or Elissa, Fergus. I may have been pushing for a Nevarran alliance for years, but it was Elissa who cemented the deal with her embassy to Nevarra City, and you who will ultimately seal the alliance with your marriage.”

 Anora still remembered the months spent apart, waiting in anguish for the news of her safe passage to reach the palace. Elissa had gone to Nevarra as the representative of the Fereldan crown as much as the leader of the Greys in Ferelden —the latter serving as cover for the former— and the queen hadn’t managed a good night of sleep for days, worrying over the dangers that awaited the young Cousland.  

 Shaking the memories, she covered Fergus’ hand with hers, squeezing softly. “I know it can’t be easy after Oriana. It’s been years now, but—”

 “I know.” Fergus sighed. “As I know you still think about him sometimes, too.”

 Anora’s heart clenched, as it often did at the mere mention of Cailan. Time had dulled the pain, but had never truly taken it away.

 “I do. Your sister doesn’t let me brood too long, though,” she laughed, reminiscing how exactly Elissa had distracted her once, with an agile tongue between her legs and even more agile fingers dancing over her body.

 Elissa’s absence was suddenly unbearable. She had longed for her throughout all the negotiations, had missed her fire and passion at her side. How she wished she could stay in Denerim with her, and not juggle with the duties of Arlessa of Amaranthine as well as those of the Commander of the Grey in Ferelden… Anora was no stranger to duty —she had sacrificed much to its name already, including her own father— but recent developments had made her more selfish than was her wont. Soon, maybe…

 She felt Fergus’ lips on her brow, and she leaned into him, relishing the warmth and affection emanating from her long-time friend. She had begun rubbing at her belly again —a gesture she found herself doing more and more often and seemingly unconsciously.

 Fergus had knelt in front of her, taking her hand in his. “You should take better care of yourself, my lady. I know you want things to run as smoothly as they’ve always been, but you’re going to have to accept you can’t do everything, ‘Nora,” Fergus said before squeezing her knee playfully, “I know how very hard it is for you to acknowledge your status as mere mortal.”

 Anora huffed in mocked outrage, a peal of laughter escaping her lips, “You know as well as I do that there is no rest for the wicked, Fergus. And that includes your Queen, however divine she might pride herself in being.” Sobering, she added quietly, “There’s just so much to do… And with Elissa away in Amaranthine, I just… ”

 Fergus frowned, his hands darting to hover around her midsection, “Are you worried about—”

 She cut him before he could finish, “No, no, everything's going fine. I simply wish she were here with me. I feel…” Anora hesitated, her tongue clipping on her palate in silent frustration.

 “I feel like everything is slipping through my fingers and I am standing on an ever-shifting ground. Everything is so uncertain… The mages’ rebellion, the division of the Chantry, Orlais on the path of war, both inside and outside their borders, unrest brewing everywhere… And in this storm, Ferelden must stand tall, for we have suffered so much already. I owe it to my people to shield them from whatever is coming.” She chuckled mirthlessly, “Of course, it would help if I actually knew from where the blow is to come.”

 Somber, Fergus gently cupped her chin to tilt her head to him. “Anora, you have been queen for almost fifteen years. If anyone can weather the storm, it’s you.”

 She allowed herself a watery smile before shaking off the sudden heavy mood, and smirked at him, “Whatever shall I do without the Cousland siblings by my side, I wonder.”

 Fergus beamed. “Hopefully you never have to find out.” A beat, then, “She’s grown up a lot, hasn’t she? Father and Mother would be so proud of her,” he said, voice catching in his throat.

 Anora smiled and squeezed his arm in silent support. “They would be proud of you both”.

 

* * *

 

“How did the meeting go?” Elissa asked as she worked on untying the tight braids Anora had taken to style as her trademark buns.

 Elissa had joined her as the queen was getting ready for bed, having almost giving up on seeing her lover and resigning herself to postpone their reunion on the morrow. Elissa had used the secret passageway running from the Warden compound to the Queen’s chambers, and had slipped into her bedroom, the guards at the doors kept blissfully unaware of the nighttime visitor.

 Erlina had swiftly ceded her place to the young woman, giving her a meaningful look as she took one of the tallow candles on the vanity and retreated for the night, bidding good night to her mistress as she did so.

 The combing of Anora’s hair was a ritual in which the two women indulged often, the repetitive motion of the brush soothing the queen like nothing ever quite managed. Well… that and a few other things, courtesy of the woman currently sitting behind her.

 “Most of the Bannorn understands the necessity of an alliance. They simply do not like lying in the same bed as Nevarra, but I suspect that would be true of any foreign nation I would present them with.”

 She could feel Elissa’s fingers run through the locks, gently grazing the skin underneath. She leaned into the touch, a moan of contentment escaping her lips, and the fingers in her hair squeezed in response. Soon the other bun was similarly undone, and Anora sighed in relief as a cascade of golden hair fell free, relishing the respite for her tired scalp.

 This was Anora’s favorite time of the day. When all masks laid bare, when the armor was off and the queen could allow herself to be just a woman, to love, to grieve, to _feel_. Only in the privacy of her bedchamber and in the company of her lover would she put down the heavy burden of her crown at last.

 “What about my brother? How did the nobles react to his betrothal?” Elissa inquired, taking the brush on the nightstand. Her lips grazed Anora’s ear as she did so, and the queen shivered.

 Anora half turned to face her, a playful smirk on her lips. “You know, this would be much easier were you there to see all of it, rather than me having to tell you how it went. You are the Arlessa of Amaranthine, after all.” The smirk flickered and she swallowed, before adding quietly, “In spite of my desire to have you back in Denerim by my side.”

 The brush stopped as Elissa stilled. “I am also Commander of the Grey in Ferelden. You know why I couldn’t be there, Anora. You know why I can’t be in Denerim yet.”

 “I _know_ ,” Anora let out in a sudden angry breath, hands flying to her stomach, “but I don’t _understand_.”

 Elisa’s eyes followed her hands, and Anora could see her visibly deflate. In the flickering light of the tallow candle, Elissa looked impossibly tired, the exhaustion finally seeping through. Anora softened, reaching for her.

 “I miss you,” she whispered, bending down to touch her lover’s forehead. “I miss you, and I wish there was a way for you to be in Denerim with me. For you to take your rightful place on the throne next to me, for you to be there for what promises to be the most challenging months of my life,” Anora finished, voice cracking in anguish.

 Elissa exhaled and caught her lips in a gentle kiss, threading her fingers with hers. Anora leaned forward, deepening the kiss while one hand flew to the other woman’s neck, pulling Elissa toward her.

 The kiss went on until Elissa pulled back, splaying her hand on Anora’s belly. “She’s going to want to come out soon, isn’t she?” she said tenderly.

 “She?” Anora asked, smiling. “How can you know?”

 “I just… have a feeling. Can you feel her move?”

 “At times. More and more with each passing day. The first time it happened, I wasn’t even sure it was... “ Anora swallowed, locking eyes with the woman on her knees in front of her. “The healer told me everything was as it should be. You have nothing to worry about.”

 Elissa’s smile was so bittersweet Anora felt her heart clench at the sight. “I do, though.” She ran a hand over Anora’s stomach, marveling at the nascent bump under her fingers. “I can’t believe how fast they grow. Last I saw you, you weren’t showing at all.” She fell quiet, until her eyes met Anora’s. “You look beautiful.”

 Anora gave her a tremulous smile of her own, and surprised herself when a sob caught in her throat. Elissa’s eyes widened, worry wrinkling her brow. “Sorry, this has been happening more and more often...” Anora wiped at her cheek, brushing away a fallen stray tear. “I don’t seem to have much control over them, lately.”

 “I remember Oriana’s mood swings when she was carrying Oren. Never cross an Antivan, much less a pregnant one,” Elissa giggled, reminiscing. “Oh, how the ever-poised queen must hate not being in control.”

 Anora pouted at her. “Don’t mock me. It’s ridiculous! I find myself tearing up at the slightest frustration. Erlina had to deal with me throwing a tantrum over a spilled cup of tea. I’ve never been so embarrassed,” Anora finished with a flourish, dramatically bowing her head in feigned shame.

 Both women chuckled, eyes crinkling in shared merriment. As their laughter subsided, silence settled, and Anora lost herself in the green of Elissa’s eyes. The young Cousland was unusually quiet, studying her intensely, her hand still rubbing gently at Anora’s midsection.  

 “I’m sorry for being away so often. It’ll all be over soon, one way or another.”

 “I’m glad you’re here now,” Anora whispered softly before capturing Elissa’s lips. She kept the kiss light and chaste, until Elissa pulled her into a deep, tongue-filled kiss that had her trembling in anticipation and desire.

 Oh, how she’d missed this. The wandering hands roaming over her body, the teasing tongue dragging out moans and whimpers that would send a Chantry sister blushing, the nimble fingers that left her sticky and wet and begging for more.

 Damn duty, and damn the world for keeping them apart. Anora could feel the tears threatening to break free again, and fought back to keep them at bay. _Enjoy this_ , she told herself, _enjoy her_.

Elissa’s mouth had found her neck, and one of her hands had slipped underneath her silk nightgown to massage her breast, fingers lightly teasing her nipple. Anora gasped at a particular sharp pinch, hands flying to Elissa’s shoulders.

 “ _Maker_ , Elissa.”

 “Sorry,” Elissa winced, throwing her an apologetic smile. “I forget how sensitive they’ve become.” She pinched her again, more gently this time, eliciting another breathless gasp from Anora. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though.”

 “No, I imagine you wouldn’t,” Anora chuckled, before claiming Elissa’s lips once more, hands threading through her dark curls, raking at the skin underneath. The heat of the kiss left them both breathless, and Anora could feel the familiar tingling spreading all over her body, her thighs clenching in anticipation.    

 “Take me to bed,” Anora breathed.

 Elissa visibly shuddered, unable to hide the effect Anora’s words had on her, before answering lasciviously, “Your wish is my command, my queen.”

 

* * *

 

Anora awoke much later to a room plunged in darkness.

 Elissa’s head was resting on her belly, fingers lightly circling her abdomen, following the gentle curve of her stomach. Anora brushed her lover’s back, humming in quiet contentment as she did so, prompting Elissa to moan in a catlike purr, body arching into her touch.

 Mind still half-clouded with sleep, Anora blinked, her eyes beginning to make out the contours of the woman stretched out naked beside her. Her muscles ached pleasantly, a delicious reminder of their earlier activities, and Anora felt a smile tugging at her lips, unable and unwilling to quell it.

 “Hey.”

 “Hello. Up so late, my love?” Anora inquired, voice gruff with slumber.

 Elissa hummed. “I have a lot on my mind.”

 “Let me know when you’re willing to share,” Anora said as she closed her eyes, exhaustion winning over.

 Silence filled the room once more, and Anora almost drifted off back to sleep, until she heard Elissa’s voice, barely above a whisper.

 “I’ve been thinking…” Elissa began in a low voice, before catching herself and falling silent. Anora heard her swallow, and the hand on her belly stilled. She kept steadily rubbing her back, offering whatever comfort Elissa needed from her and hoping this was enough.

 “I think… I think I’d like to call her Eleanor. The baby, I mean,” Elissa stammered, shifting under her arm to turn her head to hers, propping her chin on her stomach. “If that’s okay?”

 Face draped in the shadows of the room, eyes shining in the moonlight, Elissa looked impossibly young. As if the night had stripped her of her persona to bare the girl underneath, leaving her raw.

 “Still convinced it’ll be a girl, I see?” Anora said lightly in an attempt to alleviate Elissa’s somber mood. Elissa’s mouth trembled at her quip, her lips sketching a cautious smile. Anora reached for her lover’s face, gently running her thumb along her cheek.

 She opened her mouth to speak, but the babe chose this exact moment to twist in Anora’s belly, prompting a gasp to fall from her lips at the sharp tug she could feel at her side. Elissa’s watchful eyes flew to her face as Anora struggled to conceal a wince.

 “What is it? Elissa asked, worry tingling in her voice.

 Anora readjusted herself, turning slightly so that her belly rested on the side. “She’s kicking. Here, give me your hand.”

 Elissa’s eyes went as wide as saucers as she hastened to do so. Anora shifted slightly, getting closer to her to allow her better access.

 “I can’t feel anything,” Elissa said in a dejected voice, after waiting a couple of minutes for the babe to move under her hand.

 “Soon, you will. She’s playing with my kidney right now.” Anora winced again, a particular painful thump making her hiss in discomfort. Elissa’s eyes flew to her face, the hand on her belly squeezing in silent support.

 “You said ‘she’,” Elissa whispered, face splitting up in a beaming smile.

 “Did I, now? You must be rubbing off on me,” Anora scoffed playfully.

 Elissa turned back her gaze to the hand still splayed on her stomach, as if waiting for the babe to make itself known to her. Anora hoped it would soon. Elissa had lost much —they all had in recent years— but the young woman’s sacrifice had always seemed larger than anyone else’s.

 They had begun rebuilding, piece by piece, what had been snatched away from them by the Blight and the civil war. Anora knew the loss of her family was something Elissa had never forgiven herself for. She knew what this chance at a new beginning meant for her.

 And truth be told, Anora was craving these new beginnings just as much as Elissa was. It was time to put the phantoms of the past where they belonged. Time for life to claim its due.

 “As for your request,” Anora began, weighing her words carefully, “Elissa, you know how dear Eleanor was to me. When I came to the court after my own mother passed away, she was the only one who’d show me kindness. Who would teach what it meant to be a woman in a world of men. What it meant to be queen. In all but name, she was like a mother to me. I’d be honored to name her so.”

 Elissa said nothing for a while, eyes still locked on her stomach. Anora was holding her breath, waiting for her reaction. Finally, slowly, Elissa murmured, “I’m glad,” and burrowed further into her side, keeping her hand on her belly, the warmth of it seeping through Anora’s skin.

The babe had calmed down, as if appeased by her mother’s touch. Soon both were fast asleep, and Anora allowed herself a half-formed smile, content to simply lie still, held in the embrace of her lover.

In the midst of a world that was tearing itself apart, she would ensure that her country endure. With Elissa by her side, she had to believe they could weather the storm. The Nevarran alliance, for better or for worse, would be going forward. And so would they.

 Ferelden’s future was growing inside her.

**Author's Note:**

> No explanation about the pregnancy or the baby's father because I can, and ultimately it really doesn't matter.


End file.
